


Honest Mistake

by E_Scribble



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Kink, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Controlling Derek, Humor, M/M, Nudity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Derek, Smut, Stiles doesnt know its a heat thing, Stupidity, heat - Freeform, oh stiles i wish i were you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Scribble/pseuds/E_Scribble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles accidentally stumbles into the wrong apartment and meets a very grumpy tenant. Thrice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honest Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I discovered I'm better at one-shots than actually committing to whole stories :):):)
> 
> Please enjoy the end result of me drinking a smoothie and listening to Elvis Presley.

Stiles was on his way over to Scott’s apartment, just finishing walking up the five flights of stairs. He was panting slightly, still determinedly sipping at his smoothie. He really needed to have someone fix the whole broken elevator deal.

He glanced down as he was sipping his smoothie, watching the pink drink slip up the straw and into his mouth, delighting in the taste as it hit his tongue.

Reaching Scott’s door, Stiles turned the open knob and swung into the apartment.

The first thing he noticed was that it smelled different – nicer, thicker, more _masculine_. Less like sex and potato chips. _A candle maybe?_ He thought as he glanced up.

The second thing he noticed was the very erect, very angry naked man standing in the entryway.

Okay, so.

He didn’t look like Scott _at all_.

He was tall and strong and he was pretty sure every single one of his muscles had been shot through with steroids. He glistened with a light sheen of sweat, a small droplet hanging endearingly over one _very_ angry eyebrow. Also, his whole face was _much_ more attractive than Scott’s.

“Uh,” Stiles began intelligently.

The guy smoldered, and Stiles was pretty sure he could see steam rising from his intimidating shoulders. Stiles told his eyes to _not_ look at the guy’s _huge_ erection, but they did anyways.

“You’re not Scott,” Stiles continued, because the guy seemed to only be capable of staring furiously and twitching his eyebrow. In the following silence the sound of Stiles’ sipping his straw was deafening.

The guy blinked in confusion, his anger momentarily slipping away. Stiles blinked back and continued to sip his smoothie. “Unless, like,” he began, eyes widening. “Unless you actually _are_ Scott, and you’ve been like voodooed and shit, switched into some amazingly hot guy’s body, who has an eternal erection and who also can’t speak as payback for your lowkey homophobia.” Stiles smirked and sipped his drink again, totally convinced that he was right.

Because the idea that he had walked into the wrong apartment when the door was _open_ to this god of a human who happened to be naked and _hard_ was a little _too_ convenient.

“There’s no such thing as magic,” Angry Erection Dude muttered, his eyes still raging furiously.

Stiles rolled his eyes placing a hand on his hip. “Okay, Scott. I wonder how mad you’d get if I like, jacked you off right now. Maybe that’s all we need to do to break the spell. But, it _does_ seem like you can talk, so maybe you’re just incapable of telling me you’re cursed? Like, I’m completely okay with helping out a pal. No problem,” Stiles smiled, setting his smoothie down.

The man in front of him widened his eyes and backed up, cursing and growling. Stiles advanced on him, smiling. Scott-but-Not fell over his couch, and Stiles froze.

That was not Scott’s couch.

The guy, really Not-Scott, was sprawled on the couch, his thick legs muscular and struggling to hold him from tipping over. His erection, for some reason, had not softened.

Stiles felt like perhaps slamming his head in the fridge door.

“Haha, wow, look at the time,” Stiles glanced down at his bare wrist, clearly visible in his thin white cotton shirt.

The guy watched him, angry mortification drenching his very sexy features.

Stiles tipped his imaginary hat, grabbed his smoothie, then quickly made his exit.

Once he was safely out of the apartment, he leaned up against the door and heaved out a sigh. Then he sipped at his smoothie some more.

He quickly located Scott’s apartment, 543, _not_ 542, and whisked in, heart beating madly.

He knew he was in the right place immediately from the stench. Sex and potato chips.

Scott sat on his couch, playing aggressively on the PS3 they had pooled their money to get. Stiles didn’t technically live here, but he came over enough that it had _so_ been worth the $84.65 he had hocked up.

Scott glanced over, and Stiles was still extremely disappointed that his best friend completely ignored his amazing werewolf abilities in favor of video games. He could have _so_ heard his wildly beating heart, had he not been loudly munching on Doritos and madly smashing buttons.

But he _did_ have pretty keen best friend abilities, because when he saw Stiles face, he quirked his eyebrows. “What just happened?”

The video game paused, and Stiles rushed over to him, nearly toppling him off the couch.

“Your _neighbor_ happened,” Stiles shrieked, and Scott shoved him off, sending Stiles flying into the cushioned wall (they’d had enough accidental incidents with Scott’s crazy strength that the walls had just been permanently cushioned).

“Mrs. Farrish? How? She’s pretty much the sweetest thing ever. And the reason I have to rely on my werewolf metabolism every day. Do you even know how much candy she leaves at my door?”

“Not Mrs. Farrish!” Stiles growled again, seizing a fluffy couch pillow and chucking it at Scott’s head. “Your _other_ neighbor!”

Scott’s face went from amused to sick in zero seconds flat.

“ _Derek_?” He whisper-asked, and Stiles made a gesture somewhere between and tickle-jerk and a seizure.

“I don’t _know_! Is he tall and huge and angry eyebrows?” (Stiles wasn’t sure when _angry eyebrows_ became a description for a human, but it was _so_ Derek)

“YES!” Scott yelped, and Stiles felt horror crawl through his stomach. If Scott was this scared and didn’t even _know_ what had happened, he was _so_ going to be dead by tomorrow morning.

“What did you _do_ , Stiles?” Scott shriek-yelped again, and Stiles sighed, scrubbing at his face.

“Okay, it was an honest mistake.”

“Oh god,”

“I accidently walked into his apartment,” Scott groaned “and he was naked and erect,” Scott actually _wince-cried_   “and I thought he was you disguised as a really hot naked and eternally erect man due to punishment from an angry witch for your lowkey homophobia.” Scott fell back onto the couch and had this whole scene where it looked like an invisible man was stabbing him several times.

“I hate you,” Scott finally muttered, and Stiles pointed at him.

“Lowkey homophobia is _showing_ ,” Stiles commented.

“I’m not homophobic!” Scott exclaimed. “I just don’t like dudes!”

“Yeah, see, _lowkey_ ,” Stiles added helpfully.

“I hate you,” Scott repeated, and Stiles shrugged. “But that shouldn’t be a problem, because you’ll be dead by morning.” Scott continued, glancing over at the wall he shared with Derek.

Then he looked back at Stiles. “Did you seriously think it was me?”

Stiles nodded helplessly, sadly staring at what used to be his smoothie. “I did until I saw the couch he tripped over.”

Scott held up his hand. “Why was he tripping over a couch?”

“I thought,” Stiles scrubbed a hand against his scalp, “the cure was to jack him off. So I offered and then advanced.”

Scott threw his controller at Stiles, and if he hadn’t been dodging hard objects thrown at him since he was sixteen, he would have been clobbered.

“YOU WANTED TO JACK ME OFF?” Scott screamed, and Stiles flew to the bathroom, the only lock Scott seemed unable to break, and pushed his body against the door for good measure.

He heard Scott grumble around the living room before knocking on the door.

“Don’t kill me,” Stiles commanded, then opened the door. Scott stood there, his face sad and scared.

“What kind of flowers would you like at your funeral?”

*

Stiles was going to stay at Scott’s, because he was scared that Derek would use his scary sniffing power (turns out he’s a werewolf too), but Scott was a great friend and threw him out on the terms ‘I don’t want to die because of you’.

Which, were so unreasonable.

Stiles would _so_ die for Scott.

So Stiles trudged home, (after sprinting out of Scott’s apartment and down the five flight of stairs, nearly knocking Mrs. Farrish down when he reached the front door of the building).

Once he got home, he locked his doors, windows, and then the bedroom door. He also heaped heavy blankets over his bed because those always made him feel safer.

Sending a quick ‘I’m alive’ message to Scott, and an emotional ‘I love you’ text to his dad, Stiles turned off the lamp and went to sleep.

 

It turns out, Derek wasn’t angry enough to stalk Stiles down and rip his throat out. Just angry enough to smolder and stare. Which, there were worse things. Stiles returned to Scott’s apartment, timid but determined, and when no roaring feral Derek tore down his door, they relaxed. He had made the clear.

The next week or so passed like it usually did; Stiles went over to Scott’s house, played videogames, made fun of his obsession with Allison, and tried to convince his dad that broccoli tasted better than fried chicken as he munched on Doritos.

Stiles was on his way over to Scott’s house a week later, pulling up a picture of Allison on Instagram to show to Scott. He opened the door with a smirk, wielding the picture.

“Looks like your imaginary girlfriend’s got a soft spot for cats. Too bad you’re more of a dog per-“ Stiles halted, the air around him lacking the distinct smell of sex and potato chips.

He didn’t want to look up. He knew, logically, the chances of him walking in on Derek naked, erect, and glossy again were one in a bajzillion, but he still felt dread curl around the pit of his stomach.

He slowly let his eyes rise, and _goddamn the motherfucking universe and the overseer of odds and likeliness because_ this _was_ so _not okay._

Derek stood, not in the same spot he had been in before, closer to a door set in the right of the wall, his hair tousled, his body naked, his penis erect, his mouth open.

Eyebrows angry.

“ _Seriously_?” Stiles whined, smacking his hands against his thighs.

Derek smoldered. Stiles saluted him then calmly made his way out of Derek’s apartment.

Then crashed into Scott’s.

“It happened _again_!” Stiles screeched, tumbling onto Scott’s couch.

Scott send him a horrified look. “You didn’t set Allison’s cat on fire did you? _Again_?”

Stiles waved his hands around to clearly indicate _no_.

“Derek!”

Scott stared at him.

“Are you fucking serious?” He squealed, racing all the while to lock his door, then shove a chair up under the handle like in some 90’s movie. Stiles carefully placed a lamp on the chair, just to be safe.

“Yes,” Stiles replied firmly.

“Jesus, how? Don’t you check?”

“I was _busy_ ,” Stiles replied, huffing. “I was pulling up a picture of Allison,”

Scott scrambled over. “Where? What? Who is she with?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “She was with her new cat. You already saw it. Plus, doesn’t he have a lock? Why didn’t he learn to _lock his goddamn door when he’s naked_?”

Scott looked at him under heavy eyelids. “You really didn’t have to verbally italicize all of those words, and because he’s _Derek Hale_. He himself is his own lock.”

Stiles swallowed. “Is he an Alpha?”

Scott nodded solemnly.

“Goddamn it,”

*

The third time it happened, Stiles was also preoccupied. He had seen Jackson Whittemore out on the street, walking through the slight drizzle with sunglasses on, and had made a snarky comment.

Jackson didn’t really, well, _like_ that.

He had begun to chase him, and yeah, the lacrosse practice from high school had definitely helped Jackson more than Stiles.

Stiles plunged into Scott’s apartment building, narrowly missing a little girl in a yellow dress, before rocketing up the stairs. He heard Jackson close on his heels, and was surprised he had assumed he wouldn’t follow him inside.

Jackson was a fucking lunatic.

Stiles finally made it to the top of the stairs, arms wheeling to keep himself balanced. He darted to Scott’s room, plunged inside, and swiftly turned to tell Scott to grab the chair because _they were going to need it_ , when he made eye contact with Derek.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “Do you even _own_ clothes?”

Derek was about to answer when the door slammed open, smashing against the wall. Jackson stood there, panting and moist, his dumb sunglasses still over his eyes.

“You’re so dead, Stilinski,” he growled, before diving after him. Stiles leapt back, skittering along the wall then behind Derek. At the moment, naked Derek seemed to be the lesser of the two evils he was faced with.

Derek was still standing there in confusion when Jackson tore around him, knocking him into his counter, where Derek landed with his thick forearms on the granite.

Then came the growl.

Stiles was too busy weaving between the furniture to really notice it, but the sound crept up his spine like a slithering snake.

Jackson heard it too, and lent a sparing glance back at Derek. Stiles was almost positive no one else in the world could look so terrifying naked.

Jackson, taking advantage of Stiles’ momentary lapse in focus, grabbed him by the neck and brought him forward, leaving him in a very vulnerable position. He bet Scott was playing GTA V.

He wondered which character he was using.

“Man, I forgot how much I missed this,” Jackson smirked, apparently completely unbothered by the fact he was in a naked stranger’s apartment about to beat the shit out of a guy he hadn’t seen in two years.

Yeah, he was crazy.

“Let him go,” came the deep rumble, and Stiles squirmed, unsure of what Derek’s motivations were.

Maybe _he_ wanted to be the one to beat the shit out of Stiles.

Jackson glanced up, and when he saw Derek, his eyes widened and he dropped Stiles.

He landed with an _oumfh_ type noise on the couch cushion.

“Get out of my house before I rip your throat out,” Derek warned, lifting his lip to showcase his choppers, “with my teeth.”

Jackson grumble-whimpered and scurried out of the house, leaving Stiles alone with a still naked, not as hard, and _angry eyebrowed_ werewolf.

“Uh,” Stiles said, and he was reminded of their first time.

Derek stared at him, and his eyes went red before returning to their normal color.

He swiftly turned and went to his door. Stiles heard a distinctive lock, and fear/arousal swept through his body.

“Seriously? You use your lock _now_?” Stiles asked, fighting to push himself off the couch cushions.

Derek didn’t answer, instead swept forward, and he was hanging over where Stiles was still sprawled on the couch in no time.

Stiles glanced up at his face, cut-glass and _so fucking sexy,_ and he felt his cock stir happily in his pants.

Derek, being the superior werewolf that he was, must have noticed the scent of arousal that had to be _streaming_ off of Stiles. His nostrils flared and he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. They were bright red.

He leaned lower, and Stiles only had a moment to gasp quietly before his mouth was preoccupied with Derek’s.

His lips were soft and warm, pushing insistently against his own. Stiles felt Derek’s tongue push inside, strong and warm, caressing his own, and he shuddered. Derek followed up with flicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and Stiles moaned and somehow his hands became tangled in Derek’s hair.

Derek removed his mouth to take a short breath, and Stiles blinked dizzily before Derek’s mouth was on his neck, suckling softly, making a trail from his collarbone up to the hollow of his ear.

When Derek’s tongue flicked over Stiles’ ear, he gasped and threw his head into the curve of Derek’s shoulder. Grunting happily, Derek placed his mouth back over Stiles’ neck, his teeth nibbling slightly before he bit down, hard.

Stiles groaned and his dick went from semi-hard to _straight fucking rock_ within a second flat. Derek allowed his fangs to release, and he trailed their tips across his rapidly pulsing jugular. Stiles flexed his hands then grabbed at Derek’s hair, pulling him over so he could look in his eyes. They were heavy-lidded and hot, a boiling red color that had Stiles moaning into his neck.

“You’re so hot, god, _Jesus_ , you’re so hot,” Stiles murmured as Derek nibbled at his collarbone, slowly inching his hands up and under Stiles’ shirt. The contact of his calloused fingers against Stiles’ own skin made him shiver and arch into his touch, sinking helplessly against the couch.

Derek smirked and tugged impatiently at the hem of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles whimpered and held his hands up obediently.

Derek kind of lost it after that.

At the sight of Stiles’ swollen, dusky nipples perked happily, he growled, bending low to roll the nubs between his teeth, twisting the other with his fingers. Stiles twitched and sunk into his touch, his mind fogging over.

Derek bit and suckled at every inch of skin exposed, leaving swollen red marks and sloppy hickies in his wake. Stiles’ hands were trembling, and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands along the naked expanse of Derek’s body, but every time he moved his hand to try, Derek pinned them down and attacked his mouth.

“Derek,” Stiles panted, “please,” he moaned when Derek roughly bit down on his neck again, his hands yanking his jeans down roughly. “Let me touch you,” Stiles begged, lifting his hips to help Derek slide them all the way off.

Derek grunted, but it didn’t sound as forceful this time, so Stiles took that as a _yes_.

Full steam ahead.

His hands were on Derek’s hard, glistening body within the millisecond, skidding along his plains of muscle and tan skin. Stiles gasped and buckled when Derek’s hands roughly encircled his waist, thumbs pressing harshly against his hipbones.

“Derek,” Stiles whimpered, biting down hard on his lip when Derek rocked against him, the slickness of their cocks creating blinding friction while at the same time _not enough_.

Stiles’ hands spasmed on Derek’s thick shoulders, curling delicately into a fist when Derek suddenly pulled back with a growl, his squared palm reaching forward and –

“ _Holy fucking shit godamn mother of god and all that is good,”_ Stiles breathed out raggedly, because Derek’s hand was _wrapped around his cock_.

There was a soft chuckle, low and throaty, and then he _tugged_.

Stiles wasn’t sure where his mind went, but he knew it was somewhere good. His whole body jerked upwards with Derek’s hand, unwilling to give up the sweet friction. His thighs trembled, and he was pretty sure precome was already leaking steadily from his slit.

Derek gave a triumphant grunt that for some reason made Stiles’ knees go a little weaker. Derek was such a fucking Alpha.

And Stiles was so completely _wrecked_.

And he was getting wrecked by an Alpha.

God, his life was nice.

Derek’s hand gave another pull, and Stiles was a melting, quivering mess.

Derek continued to stroke him roughly, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other holding his hips down so Stiles was helpless to him.

The thought made his dick twitch.

Stiles’ made a noise torn somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and Derek’s eyes flickered upward.

Stiles’ own brown doe eyes met his fiery red ones, and with a short, strangled, surprised gasp, he came.

Derek’s eyes went dark and he did not release eye contact as Stiles came, shooting white, blinding streaks of pleasure up his legs and through his spine. Derek milked him until Stiles begged for him to stop, and Derek then leaned over and bit viciously into Stiles neck.

“Shit,” Stiles gasped quietly, his shaking fingers trailing over Derek’s hard body. He found that once he made eye contact with Derek, he couldn’t break it until Derek looked away.

It must be an Alpha thing.

Derek made a soft noise, almost like affection, but it was shot through with too much possessiveness to be endearing.

“So, what now are we –“

Stiles was cut off when Derek yanked his legs wide, baring his opening. A shot of pure arousal wound its way around Stiles spine, and he arched back with a groan.

“Yeah, okay, this is good with me too.”

Derek leaned forward and flicked his tongue out, lightly coating Stiles hole with his saliva. Stiles’ jumped and whimpered at the touch, fisting his hands in Derek’s thick chocolate hair.

Derek’s tongue continued to spread Stiles’ hole, softly licking a trail up and down, gently teasing the winking hole until Stiles was quivering and begging for his touch.

He spit onto his ass once, rubbing it in with his thumb before reaching under the coffee table and pulling out lube. Stiles mind came up with a snarky comment about that specific placement for lube, but Derek’s cold, lubed up finger entering his body distracted him.

The stretch was interesting, not entirely painful, not exactly pleasing. Stiles shifted, stretching himself wider, giving Derek a better angle. Derek hummed, then let out a slow breath over Stiles sensitized hole. Stiles groaned and jerked, smashing his fist against Derek’s shoulder.

“Would you just _fuck me_?” He asked incredulously, and Derek paused fingering Stiles to glance up.

Stiles suddenly regretted hitting him.

Derek removed his finger, then pinned Stiles hands with his own and his feet as well. Stiles was suddenly spread eagle and helpless all over again. Derek stared down at him, a strange predatory gleam in his eyes that atoned to him not being entirely human.

Then his mouth was all over.

He was arching his body, holding Stiles in place, his tongue traveling over Stiles’ navel, teeth biting at his nipples, licking hot stripes across the back of his ear, covering him with his mouth until Stiles was gasping and jerking with every touch, his dick standing fully erect, his hole clenching around the empty air desperately.

Derek, satisfied he had thoroughly ruined Stiles’ sanity, released him, limb by limb, and made eye contact again. His eyes were a dark shade of crimson, hooded and lusty.

“You will not tell me what to do,” he growled, low and deep, nipping at Stiles’ inner thigh before plunging two of his fingers back into Stiles.

He gasped, eyes flying wide, and Derek held him down again, removing his ability to move, completely controlling the whole thing. Stiles whimpered and shivered, bucking against Derek’s firm grip uselessly as he furiously scissored in and out of him.

When Derek was convinced that he wouldn’t completely rip Stiles open with his dick, he withdrew his fingers, letting Stiles struggle not to command him to _fuck him_ , his hole grasping at air, his mouth wide and desperate.

Then Derek plunged into Stiles.

He was hard and velvet and inside and _filling_ Stiles completely. Derek gasped, the first verbal sign that he was affected by this at all, and the sound had Stiles’ dick twitching needily against his stomach.

“God, yes, Derek,” Stiles breathed, closing his eyes, running his hands over Derek’s rippling muscles, feeling them pull taut then snap forward with the hard motion of Derek’s hips as he pounded into him.

“Fuck, please, you, right there, yes, _god,_ ” Stiles went on, unable to stop himself from bucking hysterically, his fingers twitching along with his dick.

Derek growled and leaned forward over him, looming and _huge_. His eyes latched onto Stiles’ and then his hand came down over Stiles’ mouth. He gave a muffled complaint, but then Derek hit his prostate and Stiles melted into the couch, his eyelids fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure, a pitiful sigh escaping his mouth.

Derek, seeming pleased with Stiles’ reaction, repeatedly attacked his prostate, all the while covering Stiles’ mouth.

Derek’s rocking soon grew unsteady, and Stiles felt that he was close. Derek broke away with a gasp, releasing Stiles’ mouth to reach down and hastily pull at his cock, until Stiles’ was coming hard, spurting them both, his vision blurring as white-hot pleasure laced itself through his body, much like the first time _but so much more_.

He felt Derek release inside of him soon after, falling against him with a strangled groan.

Stiles was gasping and blinking and trying to understand what had happened when Derek pulled out and shook himself.

His eyes suddenly cleared, and they went from crimson to sparkling pond. He looked worried, suddenly, surprised and sated all at the same time.

“Uh,” he mumbled, and Stiles stared at him, still trying to locate his mind.

Derek fled from the room, and Stiles groaned, letting his head fall against the couch cushion. Why couldn’t he ever have _uncomplicated_ sex?

Just as he finished tugging on his jeans, pulling the zipper angrily up, Derek burst back into the room clothed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, quiet and shy and still Alpha somehow.

Stiles blinked. “Am I okay?”

Derek met his eyes, squinting, then nodded.

“Well, considering I just got my brains fucked out by an Alpha and can still coherently make words, I’d go with a _yes_.”

Derek bit his lip, staring at the ground. “I just, kind of, jumped you. And also came inside without really asking.”

Stiles stifled a laugh. “Okay, true. But I would have told you _no_ if I hadn’t wanted your dick up my ass, and besides, you’re a werewolf, so diseases can’t be spread. I’m clean, you’re clean. We’re all clean.”

Derek rolled his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, okay good. Good,” he looked suddenly very uncomfortable.

Stiles wished he had a smoothie to suck on.

“I was in Heat,” Derek blurted.

Stiles frowned, glancing up to meet Derek’s eyes.

“That’s why I was naked all those times,” Derek looked like he wanted to die, or maybe crawl into the ground, or both. “And also why I jumped you.”

It clicked happily together in Stiles’ head, but the thought _he didn’t really want you, just your hole_ , followed it.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles mumbled, scuffing his shoe. “Yeah, well,” he smiled up at Derek. “Thanks for sexing me hardcore.”

Stiles made to leave the apartment, but Derek stopped him, his hand on his chest. “No, okay, geeze. I’m doing this wrong.”

Stiles stared at him, wanting to flick his eye.

“I don’t know you that well but I’d like to, you know,” Derek grumbled, “get to.”

Stiles grinned, and Derek saw. He growled, his fangs appearing, but Stiles just grinned wider and looped his finger through Derek’s jeans and tugged him forward.

“Why does it seem like all werewolves have an inability to communicate like humans?” Stiles asked with a shit-eating grin, and Derek’s eyes flashed red before returning to their pond color again.

“Because we’re _not_ ,” Derek muttered, moving in to capture Stiles’ lips with his own. Stiles sighed into the kiss, pulling him closer.

He broke away suddenly, a grin splitting his face in two. “I can’t wait to tell Scott about this,”

**Author's Note:**

> (ALSO I KNOW THAT THE RIP YOUR THROAT OUT WITH MY TEETH SCENE WAS WITH STILES BUT IT WAS A PERFECT PLACE TO INCORPORATE IT SO I HAD TO EVEN THO JACKSON IS NOT STILES OK IM NOT AN AMATEUR GUYS ILY)


End file.
